The Castle Canterlot
by Honey Mead
Summary: After almost two decades working under Princess Celestia, Chronicle has... acclimated to his position as her seneschal. Unfortunately, things are about to change more in one night than they have for the past thousand years.
1. Chapter 1

The Castle Canterlot:

Chapter 1

"_After the in-depth interviews, background investigations, work history studies, and a grueling battery of tests, I hold a contest to see who can brew the best cup of tea."_

—_H.R.H. Princess Celestia, when asked how she chooses her staff._

Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia Invictus of Equestria, was not in her body. She'd left it behind more than half an hour ago, becoming a glowing mass of gaseous aether, compressed into a vague facsimile of her own body, high above Ioka to facilitate her twice daily task of shifting the whole of the sky, orchestrating the change from night to day.

Dawn had lost much of its allure over the past millenium, worn down by the extra duties to which she was not well attuned. In the first years, Selene hadn't been particularly co-operative, stretching Celestia's patience by playing the petulant foal. After the first decade or so, she'd calmed down, allowing them to share a cordial, if not friendly, working relationship. For the past few days, however, she'd been reluctant to set. Not for any nefarious reasons, quite the opposite in fact, more akin to a filly on Hearth's Warming Eve.

The stars, on the other hoof, had never warmed up to her. They weren't all bad. Polaris and a few others did their best to help; but there were so many, and more than a few seemed to go out of their way to make Celestia's mornings difficult. The key troublemakers, much like Selene, had begun to act differently in the preceding days, huddling back and doing their best to avoid Celestia's attention. It was all Celestia could do not to tip her own hoof.

After thanking Polaris for her help and bidding her a restful day, Celestia turned away from the empty sky and toward the east, calling out to her other half, waking her from her slumber.

_Good morning, Love,_ Sol said, her words stretching out in a great yawn as she crested Ioka's rim and cast her first rays across the great disc.

"Hello, Love," Celestia answered, the light of her aetheric form glowing brighter as she released her restraint now that the stars were off to bed. Her amusement only continued to grow when Sol's attention dropped straight down to Manehatten and the earth pony clan who had so intrigued her for the past generation. "And how is the Orange Clan this morning? Has Calamity found out about Persia and Valencia?" she asked making no effort to hide her whimsy.

_I hope so. That Valencia is a bad seed. Ha, I made a pun! Did you hear that, Love? I punned! Punned? Is that the right word?_ Sol looked up when Celestia failed to respond, only to find her vibrating as she struggled to hold back her mirth. _Is something the matter? _

Celestia brought herself back under control, her mirth and brightness waning only enough for her to speak. "Yes, everything is fine. Perfect."

Sol tilted slightly. _My, you are giddy this morning. You didn't get into the coffee again, did you? I thought we talked about this, Love._

"No, and I will thank you to not bring that up again," Celestia said, her humor sliding into annoyance. "You've forgotten what day it is."

_Hmph! I have not either! How could you even suggest that I would forget that tomorrow is your birthday? _

"I wouldn't _dream _of it, Love." Sol gave her a confused look and Celestia continued, "What year is it?"

Sol spun slowly in thought. _Hmm… you'll be… and the calendar changed… Uh-hu… Ah! _she said, stopping to face Celestia again. _It is the year one thousand of the… No, is it really?_

"Mmm hmm."

_Oh, Love, that is wonderful!_ Sol shouted, vibrating. _You must be bursting at the seams! Would that we could hurry the day along._

"Hmm, yes, that would be nice. Alas, there is still much that must be seen to yet."

Sol spun again as she said, _You work yourself too hard, Love._

"I do only what I must."

Sol's golden light flashed a ruddy bronze. _You never come up to play anymore._

Celestia's own glow matched the darker hue and she reached out to comfort her sun. "After today, if everything goes according to plan, I promise that we will _hang out _more."

_You and your plans,_ Sol groused, turning back toward Manehatten. _One of these days you're going to miss something and it's going to bite you in your pretty white flank. _

Celestia chuckled as she prepared to return to her own body. "Perhaps, but not today, I think."

— — — TCC — — —

Scattered clouds, small white puffs that had escaped the weather team during the night, glowed varying shades of orange and violet in Sol's rising light. She had barely finished cresting the horizon when Chronicle, Twilight, and Spike exited the castle with purposeful strides as they stepped off the hard, white marble flooring and onto the soft, green grass of the southern hanging lawn.

Akin to a massive balcony, the courtyard was a three-quarters circle of marble built off the mountain's sheer face. Thick shrubs and flower beds, lush, verdant, and bright with the flowers of mid summer, ringed the false edge. Two fountains of stone sent streams of water high into the air, a soft cloud of steam floating from the warm water as it was kissed the cool mountain air. Four sets of short, white stone steps led to a second, lower tier where benches abutted the wall, facing out and providing a gorgeous view of unobscured sky. Night or day, it was a favored place to hold smaller parties.

Parked in the center of the lea, an open backed sky-chariot awaited. Gold leaf glinted from its every angle. Two faux wings flared off either side of the single axle. A massive round cut amethyst adorned the front of the carriage, its enchantment allowing the two pegasus charioteers, waiting patiently within the harness, to carry the added weight without difficulty. It was truly a regal way to travel.

Chronicle preferred trains.

The top of Chronicle's gaze never rose above the shrubbery, ensuring that he missed the skyward display. He had to suppress a small shudder anyway, flicking it out through his tail, but could do nothing to hide his swivelling ears. With most of his attention focused inward, regulating his breathing and maintaining a steady gait, his companion's words passed over him. It wouldn't be fair to say that he was ignoring the young mare, even disregarding the redundant nature of her rant. Rather, his ears listened for any cues or keywords that would require a response while he focused on preparing for the busy day ahead.

"... supposed to mean anyway? _Makes some friends_..." Twilight continued as the trio crossed the lawn.

Meanwhile, Chronicle thought himself through the talking points of the meetings to come. He did not get far before they were stepping up to the chariot. With a voice calm as a rock and no more emotion, one that had taken years to craft, he said, "Ms. Sparkle."

"... _Dusty old mare's tales_!"

"Ms. Sparkle!" he tried again, adding a little volume and edge. Beside her, young Spike rolled his eyes and waited, tapping a foot on the grass.

"She's never just ignored me like that before! I—"

"Twilight Abigail Sparkle!" Chronicle's voice cracked with more command than he liked, but finally broke her distracted rambling. She faced him, a sheepish grin on her muzzle. Certain that he had her attention, Chronicle nodded and continued in a lighter, if no softer, tone, "It has been my experience that Her Highness does little without strong reasons."

"I know," she said, her ears drooping, pawing at the grass.

Chronicle attempted a small smile, though he had little confidence in it. "Might I recommend that you read over her letter again, perhaps there is something you have overlooked."

"Why isn't she here, though?" Twilight asked, a slight whine hiding deep in that last word.

"It is a very busy time for Her Highness, as you well know. She will no doubt speak with you after the ceremony."

"But—"

"Come on, Twilight," Spike said, stepping up the chariot's back. "If we don't get going we'll be _late_."

Twilight cringed at the last and nodded, following the drake aboard the chariot's open back. Chronicle watched as a short exchange passed between Twilight and the harnessed Guards until all parties were prepared for the flight. With wings spread, the pegasi started to trot forward, drawing the chariot behind.

"Good luck, Ms. Sparkle," Chronicle said, waving a hoof as they pulled away. "I'll see you upon your return in a few days."

"Bye, Chronicle!" Twilight called back over her wither. Just as they began to lift off the ground, she shouted back, "Oh! Tell Shiny I love him, and that I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye!"

Chronicle nodded, still waving as they began to lift off the ground. For the first time since they'd stepped outside, his eyes lifted, following the shrinking chariot as it rose into the sky and rounded south. He waited, tracking its flight until it was clear of Canterlot's outer walls before turning away.

The moment his eyes left the sky and found earth, his hooves took off, carrying him back to the safety of the marble walls. Only once the heavy oak doors had closed did he pause; his eyes squeezed shut as he took in a deep, steadying breath and forced it out through his teeth. After repeating the process three times, he opened his eyes, ready to continue with his day.

The Princess may have been spending the evening away from Canterlot, but that didn't mean everypony else would be following her to Ponyville. A small army of nobles and dignitaries would be descending on the palace for the Summer Sun Celebration, and, at the end of the day, it was his responsibility to make sure that everything went forward without a hitch. There was much to see to above and beyond his already plentiful duties.

Three steps later and he was brought to a halt by a pair of ice blue eyes wearing the violet and gold armour of the Captain of the Sword. Chronicle had enough time to brace himself before he was set upon by the much larger stallion. He had seen the esteemed captain both in and out of his armour and couldn't decide which was more intimidating.

"She's already gone, isn't she?" Shining Armour asked, more accusation than question.

"Captain Armour," Chronicle began, focusing on his breathing even as he bowed his head slightly. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Ms. Sparkle asked that I apologize for her sudden departure and to express her love."

The captain stopped so close that Chronicle had to crane his neck slightly to met his eye. "You couldn't have held her up so that I could say goodbye?"

"I apologize, Captain, but Her Highness was insistent that Ms. Sparkle leave at once."

"Would five minutes have made so much of a difference?"

Chronicle's ears flickered as he struggled to maintain eye contact. "Again, I apologize, but whether it would have affected Ms. Sparkle's schedule or not, it would have mine. If there is nothing else, I have a great deal of work to see to this day and it would not do to fall behind." Shining Armour opened his mouth to respond, but Chronicle continued, "Will that be all?"

Shining Armour bit back his words, stepping aside with his head bowing slightly and let Chronicle pass. He did not, however, leave. Instead falling in at Chronicle's side. They trotted in silence as they traveled deeper into the palace.

A three pony wide, baby blue carpet ran down the corridor's length beneath their hooves, leaving another four hooves of stone bare on either side. Small chandeliers and periodical candlestands provided most of the light before afternoon when Sol's light would stream in through the western windows.

They soon entered the South Hall, with its tall, arched ceiling, ivory columns and constant hoof traffic. Guards, servants, and maids moved through the wide room, all destined for different sections of the palace. Two pegasi were currently flitting about the tall arches, scrubbing at the set in dirt and dust. Chronicle and Shining didn't slow their gait as they passed through, both taking the southern exit. It was then, once they passed the threshold, that Shining Armour spoke up.

"I do not appreciate being kept out of the loop, especially when it concerns my sister."

Chronicle breathed deeply and snapped his tail once before replying, "I understand your concern, Captain. Unfortunately, I am not the pony with whom you need speak on this subject."

"No," Armour said, his annoyance clear in his tone, "but you can speak to her on my behalf."

Chronicle looked up at the other stallion incredulously. "Need I remind you of your rank, Captain. If you wish to speak with Her Highness, you need only say the word, and I shall schedule the appointment."

"This has nothing to do with my rank or status. I can not go to the Princess to whine about my grown sister being sent off without consulting me first."

Arriving at a juncture, the two unicorns stopped, and Chronicle turned to face Armour. "I sympathize with your concerns, but might I suggest that you speak to her like an adult. You may find her more amiable to your request than you think."

Shining Armour shook his head, staring off for a moment before snapping back. "It's just that, at times, I feel as though Celestia has it out for me. Do you know she had me comparing the most recent surveys of the Everfree Forest with those taken over a thousand years ago? It took me hours just to find them! Did you know that there wasn't even a forest there back then? It used to be a city. I swear she did it just so I wouldn't find out about Twily leaving until it was too late."

Chronicle didn't notice the slight uptick of his own lips and, fortunately, neither did Shining. "I would not venture a guess as to Her Highness' purpose. I have been wrong on too many occasions. It is ours to serve at the Princess' leisure and to trust in her judgment."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Captain."

Shining Armour looked down and to the side. "I know, I know. I…" Collecting his composure, the captain re-established eye contact. "I'll see you around."

Chronicle affected a small smile. "Good day, Captain."

He started to turn, only for a hoof to hold him fast. "Thank you, for listening."

"Of course," he replied with a small nod.

They parted company there, Shining Armour taking the left as Chronicle took the right.

Finally alone, Chronicle pulled a pocket watch from his vest. The good Captain had eaten more time than he'd thought. His gait quickened, leveling at just below a canter, any faster would have been untoward for any but a messenger. He passed by many a pony on his way, though none of any standing, fortunately. His path soon led him down two more stairwells and through a number of halls, until he arrived at his destination, his coat sporting a light froth.

Even through the thick, unassuming oak doors, Chronicle could hear the sounds of the eternal battle beyond. Screams of rage and pain overlaid the constant clatter and clang of incivility on the other side. There was no stop, no pause, not even a slight hesitation to the din. It was an epicenter of pure, indefatigable chaos at the very heart of the palace. A maelstrom unfit for even the stoutest of souls.

There was nothing for it, however.

Chronicle placed a hoof on the sanded wood, and, with one final calming breath, he pushed.


	2. Chapter 2

The Castle Canterlot:

Chapter 2

"_The palace kitchens."_

—_H.R.H. Princess Celestia when asked which country she most dreaded visiting._

Like a physical blow, a wall of sound struck Chronicle, staggering him and blasting back his mane. The combination of the pressure wave and the overpowering scents from within brought tears to his eyes as his ears folded back in a vain attempt to protect his hearing. He recovered in quick measure, more from experience than any natural ability. Ignoring the primal voice screaming in his head to turn tail and flee, he stepped inside.

It took a very special type of pony to work in the kitchens—the adjective Chronicle prefered was insane.

As far as he could tell, the kitchens were their own dictatorship that didn't so much serve the Princess as trade with her. At the top of the hierarchy, such as it was, was De Cuisine, an earth pony whose indomitable will was only matched by her girth. Beneath her, and with no less vigor, was Sous, a lanky pegasus who, if he hadn't been seen to taste nearly every dish before letting it out of the kitchens, Chronicle would have sworn didn't eat. The only concession to Equestrian providence were four gold etched plinths sectioned off by red velvet ropes in a far corner, upon which sat porcelain trays with glass covers, each containing its own unique cake.

Like all well structured countries, the kitchens were divided into provinces, each overseen by a ranking noble, or in this case, Chef de Parties: Sauté, a unicorn mare whose high pitched voice was every bit a match for De Cuisine's, Poissonnier, a short pegasus stallion from the Marelantian islands, Pâtissier, an earth pony stallion with a personality to match his favored food—dry toast—Garde Manger, the only affable one, Friturier, a pony who always left Chronicle feeling greasy just talking to her, and Rôtisseur, the only griffon—though her barony was sectioned off from the rest with a separate ventilation system for self-evident reasons. Each of these chefs had real names, but for the life of him, Chronicle had never heard them used.

Unfortunately, the structure seemed to breakdown after that. Below the Chef de Parties were an army of Commis and Scum—again Chronicle knew none of their names—who were, in theory, assigned to work under one of the chefs. In practice, however, Chronicle had no idea. Each chef moved through the kitchens like a miniature tornado dressed in a white jacket and toque of varying designs, screaming at and scolding those lower than themselves. Adding to the turmoil were the dishes, pots, pans, and all sorts of culinary paraphernalia that were floated and tossed overhead on their way to… somepony he was sure. It was a miracle that nopony lost an eye.

Chronicle waited at the entrance with his ears folded back and tail half tucked between his legs as he searched for the lesser eye of the storm. He tried not to make a habit of visiting the kitchens; and when he did, he knew better than to approach De Cuisine—a lesson he'd learned years prior. Instead, he sought out Sous, his hierarchical equal of sorts. It didn't take too long to spot the tall, lanky stallion berating a commis near the walk-in freezer.

It took an effort of will, not to mention strength, to cross the threshold and enter the magical realm of chaos that kept the palace fed. With a stride as sure as he could muster, Chronicle cut a path toward the freezer and his target.

Chronicle didn't waver as he moved through the mob, nor did he deviate or attempt to dodge any of the other ponies. With dexterity bordering on precognition, the commis and scum danced around him as though he were an obstacle that had always been there, a pillar that deserved no notice. His trot ended beside the two ponies he'd angled upbraiding would not end simply for his presence, so Chronicle was forced to wait until it did. Once Sous finished, the thoroughly thrashed commis disappearing amid his fellows, he turned on Chronicle.

"Seneschal! Of course you're here. The fish is twenty pounds light. We had to throw out half the celery to rot. Five bags of grain were infested with weevils and had to be tossed and we threw the rest into the freezer just in case, so we'll have to use oats instead. Nopony ordered white rice, so all we have is brown, and apparently you can't serve brown rice with the chicken, so Rôtisseur had to change the entire griffin menu because all we have his chicken. Garde Manger is sick and his commis is useless, so, I have to do his job as well as mine. In other words, we are right on schedule. Feel free not to bother next time, not that I expect you will listen."

Chronicle didn't attempt to interrupt the pegasus, content to let the scene play out as it had more times than he could count. There was a time when he would've tried to ask questions; it never worked out. Likewise, when Sous finished, Chronicle didn't object to his curt dismissal. The truth was that he didn't need to put himself through this. The kitchens were almost entirely self-sufficient, and his intrusions could only interfere with their smooth runnings. His visits were for his own peace of mind. Once, he'd left them alone, vowing not to put himself through the stress. He'd almost ruined the _Cherry Blossom Festival_ that year as that seed of worry grew into a full blown panic attack.

When the door closed behind him he sighed in relief, tail shaking out the built up tension and ears limp from exhaustion. He waited there, alone in the hallway, until his heart beat returned to something approaching normal.

The golden pocket watch floated from his vest in a light auburn haze. He had a good hour before his meeting with the ambassador from Hackney, just enough time to check on the preparations in the Great Hall.

— — — TCC — — —

Festive Dust let out a wail of abject horror at the two ponies hitched to a cart loaded down with floral arrangements. "What is THAT?"

One of the pegasus mares shrunk back before glancing over her whither at the cart, as though to ensure it contained the same cargo it had when she'd loaded it. "The flowers you ordered, Ma'am."

Festive's skyblue cheeks darkened to a shade closer to purple. "Those are _not_ what I ordered! Just… just look at them!" she said, pulling one of the bundles out with her magic and shoving them under the other mare's muzzle. "Don't you even know what season this is? Who in their right mind would order tulips and daffodils for a celebration in summer? By the Namegiver! Are those bluebells?" She tossed the offending flowers back onto the cart. "Where are my roses? Where are the peonies and hydrangeas?"

Chronicle was seated back on his haunches, waiting while the Chamberlain continued to berate the unfortunate pegasi. Nothing he could say would help the poor mares, interference now would only cause her next outburst to be that much larger. Once Festive got started, it was best to let her peter out. Instead, he allowed himself take in the Great Hall and the decorations already in place.

It was beautiful, he supposed. Banners that displayed the rising sun were strung between the pillars separating the hall's core from the northern and southern wings. Two teams of pegasi were in the process of hanging giant, gold and orange pennants along every wall, each adorned with Princess Celestia's cutie mark. The two gilded alicorn statues on either side of the raised dais were already bedecked in garlands of white and red roses, while their podiums were covered in some other blue petaled flowers.

As with most public functions, the basic strategy was simple enough. The guests would begin to arrive at one in the morning. Food and entertainment would be available for the next four to five hours while they mingled. After that, around five thirty, everypony would exit to the adjoining courtyard to witness Sol's rising.

Chronicle had no intentions of attending for many reasons, not the least of which being exhaustion. Between his meeting with Silver Maison, the planning committee, the finance committee, his daily with the Princess, and the paperwork that had to be finished before nightfall: he didn't hold any hope of making it out of his office much less to the party. He would be awake for the event itself, however, if only out of habit.

"I'm sorry about that." Chronicle jolted at the sudden intrusion, turning back to face the Chamberlain. "Can you believe those ponies? Bringing—" She stopped herself, her orchid and fuschia curls dancing as she shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Where were we?"

"We had yet to begin, Mrs. Dust."

"Really?" she asked, almost giggling. "Goodness, I could have sworn… Nothing for it." Spinning, she threw out a hoof as though to encompass the whole hall in the sweeping gesture. "As you can see we've really only gotten started with the setup, but, barring a few minor hiccups," she nearly growled, eyeing the cart on its way out, "we are proceeding a little ahead of schedule."

"Ahead of schedule?"

"I know, right? There's a first time for everything." Festive let out a short giggle. "Anyway, we'll put the dance floor there, of course," she pointed toward the dais and the portable wooden flooring being constructed by four of her staff. "The orchestra will set up on the dais once they arrive, though that won't be for hours yet. The buffet will be over there," her hoof swung toward the southern wing, "with the griffon exclusive food off to the eastern side."

She started walking north, toward the large doors that led out into the courtyard. Chronicle followed at her side. "Here we'll have most of the tables and seating with the extras wrapped around the dance floor's west end. Each table will have a beautiful arrangement of peonies, roses, succulents, hydrangeas, and ferns—if the foals at the floral shop can get their act together," she said, the last coming more a hiss than words.

Stopping at the exit, she did an about face, saying, "This, Boss, is what I am most proud of." With a flourish, she directed Chronicle's gaze back toward the ceiling and the small white puffs of cloudstuff. "Imagine one hundred firefly lamps strung from the ceiling, hidden amid a storm front of clouds. The first line, above the dais, will be a bright, incandescent yellow, with each subsequent row fading into orange, then red, and finally a line of purple bullseye lanterns at the rear, blasting their color across the back sides of the clouds."

He tried to imagine it, even closing his eyes to summon the wash of colors, but it did no good. "Very clever, Mrs. Dust. It will no doubt be magnificent."

"Thanks, Boss," she said, still grinning madly.

They both turned their attention to the exit. A fuchsia glow encased the mighty doors, swinging them open and revealing the battalion of groundskeepers hard at work tending to the lawn. Off to one side, a group of twenty ponies were busy with hammer and nail, constructing a large wooden structure. Neither pony moved to step outside, Chronicle's head tilting downward slightly.

"As you can see, we are already building the grandstand for the viewing. Once it's finished, all of the guests will have a perfect, unobstructed view of Sol cresting the horizon."

Chronicle nodded, put on a small smile, and closed the doors. "Thank you, Mrs. Dust. You appear to have everything well in hoof."

"Yes, Boss," she said, nodding, her grin far larger than his.

"No issues worth mentioning?" he asked as his left ear twitched.

"Nope."

Chronicle nodded again, his smile slipping into a slight frown. Festive tilted her head to the side a little and began to speak, only for the entrance door to swing open. Both ponies turned to see two wagons full of decorations rolling in with more than twenty ponies in tow.

"If you'll excuse me," Chronicle said as the pair moved toward the newly arrived commotion. "I have a meeting soon and it appears that you are needed. If a problem should arise, do not hesitate to contact me."

— — — TCC — — —

Chronicle scanned the two scrolls he held in his field once again, more to fill time than anything else. The first was from Dashing Quill, Secretary Lady of the Navy, and went a long way to explaining the second, which had been provided only for the sake of completion—naval jargon and cartography were not part of Chronicle's skill set. He frowned slightly before returning them to the saddlebags at his side and continued to wait in the small cabinet room.

Designed as a reading room, the back wall was dominated by mahogany bookshelves and the hundreds of books that filled them. A chaise longue sat catty corner to the door's left with a canapé to the right. Chronicle himself faced the entrance, resting upon one of the many cushions centered around a low table at the rooms center. Steam rose from the silver tea pot set out next to a _Stones_ board. Two wooden bowls, filled with polished black or white stones, were stationed on either side of the board with a pair of rods, about twelve centimeters long and two wide, sticking out of the bowls.

A soft knock on the door preceded its opening as a ruby maned colt with a darker cherry coat stuck his head in. "Ambassador Maison to see you, Mr. Chronicle, sir."

"Thank you, let him in." The colt nodded and pulled back, closing the door behind him. Chronicle closed his eyes as he took a breath, clearing his mind for the coming confrontation. The door opened.

Ambassador Silver Maison was of average build for an earth pony stallion, though perhaps a little on the small side. His white mane, with a single wide streak of silver, stood in stark contrast to his much darker sepia coat. He wore a tight grey vest about his barrel; the silver chain of his pocket watch barely visible against the fabric.

Chronicle bowed his head slightly, motioning to a cushions opposite himself. "Ambassador Maison, it is good to see you again. I've prepared an oolong, but if you'd prefer something else I can have it brought."

Silver Maison wore an affable smile, though something was off about it, perhaps the corners of his lips did not curl as much as normal, or it failed to reach his eyes as it normally did, either way, Chronicle was certain that something was not quite right. "Oolong will be fine, my friend," Silver said as he took his seat. "I have been looking forward to this game all week."

Chronicle maneuvered the tea cups in his field and filled them with the dark brown tea.

Meanwhile, the Ambassador's eyes focused on the wooden board and its burnt in gridlines. After a moment's thought, he bent his neck to the bowl of white stones, grasped the rod between his teeth and pulled it out. A single stone stuck to the tip until he touched it to the board. The moment the stone and wood connected, the magic disengaged, leaving it at the intersection of two lines. Over the next few minutes, neither pony spoke, each taking a turn to place a stone of their chosen color upon the board, sipping at their tea. It wasn't until Maison had surrounded Chronicle's first piece, removing the black stone from the board, that the silence was broken.

"First blood. You know, they say that's a reliable predictor for the outcome."

"They?" Chronicle asked, arching his left eyebrow, a motion that had taken five years to perfect—he'd given up on the right. "I'm afraid I am not familiar with those ponies. Are they the same ones who say _a watched pot never boils_ and other such nonsense?"

Chuckling, Maison changed the subject as they continued to play. "You know, I believe this Summer Sun Celebration is my favorite of your festivals."

"Oh?" Chronicle asked, placing another stone on the board. It was beginning to fill, many of their moves causing the other to remove pieces.

"It's not something we celebrate back home. At least not nearly to the extent that is done here."

"A side-effect of having the Goddess of the Sun as a monarch, no doubt."

"It's such a carefree holiday. I've found the others to have so many expectations attached that, truth be told, I don't enjoy them all that much, not as much as I should at any rate." He paused for a minute, considering the board before placing another stone. "You're still single?"

"I've never found much time for romance," Chronicle replied, using his magic to place another stone, "and being the lesser son of a landless house…"

Maison nodded his understanding of the unspoken. "What do you do with all that free time?"

Chronicle laid a stone, simultaneously removing four of Maison's. "Paperwork, mostly."

"You're pulling my tail."

Chronicle glanced up from the board and blinked. "Ah. No."

"Perhaps having two wives isn't such a bad thing after all," Maison said with forced mirth, "better than paperwork. I'll pass this turn."

Chronicle considered the board. It wasn't a bad decision; as the board sat, Maison had a clear numerical advantage and none of Chronicle's choices were particularly enticing. Still, it was place a stone or forfeit the match. Sipping his tea, Chronicle laid his piece and set up Maison's next move to take it and three more besides. "I think that would depend on how you feel about paperwork."

"Tell me, Chronicle, if you could go back and redo it all, would you change anything?"

"I think so, yes. I missed placed a stone four—"

"No, no, not the game. Your life, would you choose a different path?"

Chronicle paused, taking a long sip of his tea to collect his thoughts. He genuinely pondered on the question, though the documents in his saddlebags were never out of mind.

"No."

Silver frowned at that, ignoring the game as he stared across the table. "You're saying that you are completely happy with how your life has turned out? That you have no regrets, no mistakes that you wish you could unmake?"

Chronicle stared into his cup, watching the bits of detritus that had escaped the strainer. He let the question churn in his mind for a bit more. Soon, a memory percolated up, rising into clarity. "Have you ever read the _Texts_?"

Maison's frown deepened, his brow furrowing slightly. "I've never made a study of them. Why?"

Giving a short nod, Chronicle continued, "When I was first hired on, I thought it would be wise to read them, _The Books of Sol_ at least. Not in search of answers so much as to understand Her Divine Highness as best I could.

"In the third book, there is a story of the second Siege of Airagos Spire. The griffons were being supplied through a port controlled by ponies unaligned with Unicornia. The locals desired nothing more than to be left alone. To them the unicorns were no better than the griffons, bullies fighting for control of land to which neither had a rightful claim. Her Divine Highness—though she was not a princess at the time—and her generals believed they could shorten the war by raiding the supplies travelling through these lands. The locals, it was thought, would remain neutral, and without the supplies the griffons would be forced to surrender in a matter of months, rather than years. She was… mistaken.

"That mistake forced her to take a more personal involvement in the conflict. In the end, the war did end swiftly, but it was rather more bloody than it could have been. It was a mistake that should never have happened. Her view had been narrow, you see, she had been so focused on the current conflict, on the lives of her ponies, that she failed to account for what would come after. The relations between Unicornia and the now subdued ponies became far more hostile, leading to regular uprisings and resistance movements until after the Great Migration."

Maison started to speak, but stopped at Chronicle's raised hoof. "There is an old saying _good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from poor judgment_. Had Her Divine Highness made the correct decision, she would have learned nothing. In later conflicts, larger conflicts, she would not have had the experience to make the right call. Thus, through one tragedy another is avoided." At this, Chronicle lifted his gaze, staring hard at the ambassador across from him. "It is important to learn from past mistakes, Mr. Maison, better still to learn from the mistakes of others. Perhaps you will relay the story to your Queen. I believe she may find it pertinent."

Chronicle watched curiously as the ambassador's posture snapped to attention like he'd been caught sleeping in class, trying to figure out what the teacher had just said. It was as likely as not that he lacked context, but he would resolve that on his own. More important, and less certain, was whether Her Majesty was wise enough to heed the poorly veiled threat. Either way, the message had been delivered and there was little else for Chronicle to do at this juncture.

"Not to change subjects," Chronicle said, idly placing another stone, "but you will lose in ten moves."


	3. Chapter 3

The Castle Canterlot:

Chapter 3

"_There is a reason I coined the phrase 'the trappings of office'."_

—_H.R.H. Princess Celestia_

Chronicle let out a long-suffering sigh that he usually saved for when Princess Celestia was in one of her more mischievous moods. This sigh, however, was directed at a different princess altogether.

It had taken a half-hour to track her down with another fifteen spent waiting around a corner. The whole situation was wholly ridiculous for all parties involved. Unfortunately, he was just a pawn and had no desire to take a seat at the table. So, he followed his instructions and waited.

Chronicle glanced at his pocket watch and grimaced. If it took too much longer they'd be late. The watch slipped back into his pocket as he briefly considered acting. It would be simple. A few steps, an open door, a biting remark—or more likely none at all—and three embarrassed ponies, and that would be the end of it. He wouldn't do it, of course. Only mostly because Princess Celestia had strictly forbidden it.

When the door in question squeaked open, Chronicle first made a mental note to speak with Fitted Sheet about it. Then he peeked down the corridor to spy the young—by comparison—princess standing outside the broom closet checking her mane in a small hoof mirror.

Stepping into the hall, Chronicle let his hooves click extra loud against the floor to ensure she noticed his approach. The Princess started and quickly hid the mirror. At seven paces he stopped and bowed his head. "Princess Cadence."

Princess Cadence returned the bow with a small nod. If she was worried about having been caught, she hid it well. "Chronicle. What brings you all the way out here?"

"I was looking for you." Chronicle said, his eyes wandering to the slightly ajar door. Princess Cadence's rear hoof flinched back, kicking it shut; the muffled 'oomf' from inside did not go unnoticed. "Her Royal Highness has asked to speak with you in conference before she departs for Ponyville."

The huff and eyeroll were about what Chronicle had come to expect from her. "Of course she does." She motioned with a purple tipped wing. "Well, lead on."

The pair trotted away from the small door. Halfway down the hallway, Chronicle had to resist turning around when the door squeaked again as its second occupant failed to sneak out.

— — — TCC — — —

Princess Celestia's private study was located on the third floor of the castle's western wing. As part of the Royal Apartments, very few ponies ever made it past the initial guards at ground level, much less to the short hall that lead to Celestia's office. The white oak door to said study was as simple as they came in the palace. Large enough for Princess Celestia to enter with ease, it lacked all ornamentation and would be easy to pass up as nothing more than a servant's passage.

Princess Cadence did not bother to knock, much to Chronicle's chagrin, opening the door with her magic and strolling inside with a lack of reverence that only a teenager should have been able to manage. Chronicle's tail flicked as he followed close on her hocks, closing the door behind himself.

Much like the door, Princess Celestia's private study focused on utility over all other concerns. Every bit of furnishing was built of sturdy wood polished to a mirror shine but without a single hint of glitz or gilding. The office was set to face west toward a triplet of full-length windows that filled the room with Sol's light from afternoon to sunset. Behind the Princess was a small fireplace and mantle, currently unlit, with a few bookcases and a single curio cabinet of nick-nacks along the open walls. Off to one side, a low table supported a golden tea service awaiting her highness' leisure. Papers and scrolls covered the large desk behind which the Princess worked.

As Chronicle entered, a pair of down cushions were already being moved in a golden aura from around the fireplace to settle before the desk. This office was as much a sanctuary for the Princess as it was a place of work. As such, it was not setup with the intention of entertaining guests. There were exactly seven ponies currently allowed to step hoof inside without an express summons by the Princess—Chronicle knew of only five who'd received such summons; he did not envy them.

The instant Princess Cadence crossed the threshold, she called out in a sing-song voice, "Happy birthday, Auntie."

It had been during his fifth year as the Princess' seneschal that Chronicle finally learned the date of her birth, two hours later he had learned that it was unwise to remind her of it.

"Why thank you, _Cadenza_, how _nice_ of you to remember."

Chronicle could not keep the quiver out of his ears at the budding confrontation. Both Princesses wore the kind of smiles more commonly seen on predators fighting over a fresh kill than on ponies. Doing his best to ignore them, Chronicle took his seat and began retrieving the many reports, documents, and proposals that would guide the meeting once the millennia old princesses decided to act like adults.

"Oh, don't be like that, Auntie," Princess Cadence said as she finally broke eye contact to settle onto her cushion. "I don't understand what the big deal is, you're only—"

"How is Blueblood doing in his new position?" Princess Celestia asked, glancing over a scroll in her magic. "Keeping him out of trouble, I hope."

"I wouldn't know. I—"

"Haven't been back to the Crystal City in over a year?"

"—don't read the gossip columns," Princess Cadence nearly growled. "He is neither my foal, nor—"

"Was it five greats or six? I can never seem to remember."

"As long as you remember to add one more for yourself. So, when are you going to admit that you're Twilight's—"

"Between the two of us, you are a far more likely candidate for that honor."

"Will you let me finish—"

"Only when you have something worth while to say." Princess Celestia turned her attention to Chronicle, ignoring Princess Cadence's attempt to retort and subsequent pout. "Good afternoon, Mr. Chronicle, I hope the day has been treating you well."

"As always, Princess." His presence finally acknowledged, Chronicle passed the gathered documents to Princess Celestia. Three thick folders and a small clutch of scrolls were taken by the Princess' own field while a larger stack of clipped papers slipped easily beneath the already full 'inbox' at the desk's corner.

Princess Celestia went straight to the scrolls, skimming over them one-by-one before signing and sealing them with her royal insignia. She made it through three of the documents before Princess Cadence spoke up.

"I assume you asked me here for a reason."

"You know what they say about assuming—Oh sit down, Cadence. You're old enough to have learned to have some patience."

"That's easy for you to say when you're the one making everypony dance to your tune."

"You would rather hold the baton?"

"No!"

Princess Cadence's exclamation hung in the air, seemingly ignored by Princess Celestia as she continued to review the proposal held in her field. In the quiet that followed, Princess Cadence shrank back, embarrassed by her vocal outburst. Chronicle, for his part, kept his peace and waited.

Princess Celestia put the last scroll down and leveled a flat, unimpressed stare at her niece. "That is too bad."

"What?"

"As you so graciously pointed out, it is my birthday, and, since I will be out of the castle already, I thought it would be nice to extend my absence for a few days." Princess Celestia paused, seeming to take in the looks of surprise worn by the other two, perhaps noting their subtle differences.

"That's great, Auntie…" Cadence began, her head rotated to the right in a motion more common among birds than ponies, "but I don't see what it has to do with me."

"Is this wise, your Highness?" Chronicle asked, his voice steady despite his quivering ear and tail. Keeping his eyes locked on a point just to the left of the Princess, he continued, "I mean no disrespect, but Princess Cadence has very little standing among the House of Ladies. All things—"

"WHAT?"

"Cadenza! It is not polite to interrupt when somepony else is speaking. Mr. Chronicle, please continue."

Chronicle hesitated as he cast glances between the two princesses. "All…" He cleared his throat. "All things considered, they will do their level best to usurp what power they can in your absence."

"Which is why I have not shared my decision with anypony until now. Do not fret, Mr. Chronicle. I will only be gone for a few days at most. In the meantime, the docket has already been set, and she will have you here to help with any issues that may arise."

"You can not be serious, Auntie!"

"Oh, I am very serious."

"No. I won't do it. You can't make me! I abdicated—"

Princess Celestia stomped a hoof on the floor, her eyes alight with a baleful gleam. "I allowed you that grace, against my better judgement, in the belief that it was a phase you would out grow. When you founded the Crystal City, I had hoped that you were coming around to the idea of being a ruler. It appears I was far too optimistic. What you fail to realize, niece, is that you are my closest living relative and therefore heir to _my_ throne. If—mother forbid—something were to happen to me, I will not have my little ponies saddled with a ruler who doesn't know a treatise from a resolution."

Princess Cadence shrank back, her head dipping below her withers as she glared at the carpet between her hooves.

"Now that we have an understanding," Princess Celestia continued in a much calmer tone. "You will accompany Mr. Chronicle for the rest of the day and assume all of my legal responsibilities until I return. He knows his job and will be able to guide you through yours. Trust and rely on him, and you'll do fine."

Chronicle looked on in utter disbelief, unable or unwilling to process the words that he had just heard. It was patently absurd. There was nothing on Ioka that could possibly even hurt the immortal Goddess of the Sun. He would sooner entertain the notion of Ioka herself perishing than his beloved Princess. Yet, as his eyes searched hers for any hint of mischievousness or humor, he found nothing that she was anything but serious.

"Y-Your Highness?"

The Princess blinked, the unicorn's shaken voice seeming to blindside her. With only that single beat missed, Princess Celestia's muzzle relaxed back to her normal matronly composure. "Now, Mr. Chronicle, you need not worry about me. I have no intention of going anywhere for a very, very long time."

With a careful nod, Chronicle tried to bury the unwelcome thoughts and focus on the tasks at hoof. "Of course, your Highness." Overtly displaying one of the folders, he said, "Shall begin?"

Princess Cadence groaned as she flopped to the floor with a roll of her eyes.

— — — TCC — — —

A short—or long depending on perspective—two hours later, the trio had moved into Princess Celestia's private quarters. Despite its size, the room could only be described as elegantly cozy. A round bed, easily large enough for four ponies—though likely only two alicorns—sat to the right of a large, unlit, fireplace. Bookshelves and glass fronted cabinets covered most of the walls, the former stuffed to bursting and the latter displaying a myriad of gifts from hundreds of rulers that were small enough not be locked away in a vault.

Princess Cadence and Chronicle sat near the entrance, doing their best not to stare at Princess Celestia laid out on the collection of cushions, wings open and limp against the floor. Her two hoofmaidens bustled around her, preparing the Princess for the coming celebration. May Breeze, a cheery yellow pegasus with a curly, light blue mane, worked methodically at the Princess' wings, preening the sail's worth of feathers at a pace that spoke volumes of her experience. Meanwhile, Juniper, an autumn-orange coated unicorn with a two tone gold and ruby mane, drew two brushes over her monarch's coat and a third through the not-quite-hairs of her mane—Chronicle had never gathered the courage to ask whether the process was strictly necessary, but based on her grunts and the ever-so-occasional moan, he doubted it mattered.

"What of Ambassador Maison?" Princess Celestia asked.

"He did not seem to know of the latest incursion, but I believe that will change shortly, if it hasn't already. Whether it will do any good, only time will tell."

Princess Celestia waved her unattended wing lazily. "It's a minor issue for the moment. If the queen truly intends to hang herself, I am more than content to let her. More important to me is the Ambassador himself?"

Chronicle nodded as his quill set about scratching down a few notes. "You were right, I think. There was something weighing on his mind throughout our game."

"Wait," Princess Cadence interjected for the first time without a prompt. "Silver Maison?" Chronicle nodded. "Spends every Solsday in the gardens playing with his little fillies. That Silver Maison?"

"So I would assume. Though I don't personally follow his routine."

"I saw him just the other day, and I didn't feel anything wrong with him."

"You rely too much on your Awareness, Cadence. Not every problem is related to love. Although—" Princess Celestia twitched and hissed as May Breeze plucked a broken feather from her wing before she sighed and relaxed again. "It would be good to rule that out definitively." Focusing on Chronicle, she continued, "Make sure to formally introduce Cadence and the Ambassador, if at all possible in the presence of his wives. The sooner the better. In the meantime, I want somepony to keep an eye on him. If he gets any worse we may have to take action."

"As you say." Chronicle's quill moved to a small day planner and scratched the note in the margin.

Princess Cadence made a sound, but stopped herself from speaking until Princess Celestia gave her a look and asked her to speak her mind. "I'm just… surprised. Isn't this a little… beneath your notice?"

A small smile tugged at Princess Celestia's lips, though if it was from her hoofmaidens' ministrations or Princess Cadence's question, Chronicle was unsure. "Do you remember when Lady de Lis passed away two years ago?"

"Yes," Princess Cadence said, bemused by the sudden change in topic.

Princess Celestia closed her eyes as she continued, "We were quite fortunate that Fleur was both of age and willing to take her mother's post. I fear this would not be the case were Mr. Maison to become indisposed. Neither of his wives are politically inclined, nor are his daughters of an age to take up his responsibilities.

"There are indeed no Hackney citizens in Equestria who could readily take his post. It would take many months for the Queen's court to select a new representative and move them here. What's more, there is no guarantee that his replacement would share his reasonable mindset. Hackney is enough of a hoofull without having a disagreeable ambassador with which to contend."

"Speaking of Fleur de Lis and the Prench," Chronicle said in the momentary pause, "it appears that they have signed a new trade agreement with the Roamans."

"Oh?" Princess Celestia asked, lifting her head to look toward Chronicle, much to Juniper's annoyance.

"It's a sly piece of work, and I am honestly amazed that it passed through the Stable. Most of it is on the up and up, but there is a small section regarding the transportation of Equestrian goods across the Aplanies." Princess Celestia frowned as Chronicle passed her the relevant documents. "Fine Print found the lines late last night."

"Clever." An amused smirk twisted one corner of the Princess' lips. "Have Subtle Plume draft an official response and have it sent out on the first trade ship sailing to Roam. If you find an opportunity, speak with Fleur on the matter. I am certain she will want to be informed."

— — — TCC — — —

Princess Celestia's regalia glinted in Sol's light. Behind her, the royal Phaeton awaited with four pegasi guards hitched to the front. Before her, Chronicle struggled to work through the last of the day's business while Princess Cadence tried to seem even remotely interested.

"Has Ambassador Kara come back with a decision?"

"Not as of yet," Chronicle said, barely looking up from his hooves as he stowed the last brief in his saddlebags, "though it appears she only just received word from Bloodrock this morning. I expect to speak with her sometime before the celebration."

"Do you have a prediction of the King's response?"

"He will attempt to hold out and haggle like a common street vendor, as griffons are wont to do, but they will come around eventually, out of necessity if nothing else. It will be the time it takes for another round of talks to pass across the seas before they agree."

"Very good. Now, I must be off. It would not due to be late for my own party." Princess Celestia turned to her niece and took a step closer, using a wing to lift Princess Cadence's chin. "Cheer up, Cadence. It will not be nearly as terrible as you imagine."

"So says you."

"So says I," Princess Celestia agreed with a small smile. She stepped into a familial nuzzle with the younger princess, resting her chin on her withers. Despite her pout, Princess Cadence returned the embrace with no less affection. After they pulled back, Princess Celestia asked, "If there is nothing else?"

"There is one more thing," Chronicle said, a slight hesitation in his voice and a twitch in his left ear. Princess Celestia looked back at him, her one visible eyebrow raised. "The Reverend Speaker has sent her third request to speak to you this week." Both Princess Celestia and Princess Cadence rolled their eyes. "You do yourself no favors by pushing the Sisterhood away," Chronicle continued, doing his best to sound scolding and only mostly failing. "She is no less important than any one of the Ambassadors, more so than most."

"Her three predecessors managed their duties without more than a single visit in a year."

"The Sisterhood stagnated and diminished under them and—"

"And wasn't it lovely." She said in an almost dreamy voice.

"—and she managed to halt that decline in the one country in which a goddess resides. Her work has been instrumental in repairing our standings within Roam and Espanya."

Princess Celestia sighed. "You are right, as usual." Turning to leave, she added, "Cadence please be sure to fit her into your schedule."

"What?" Princess Cadence gasped, mouth agape.

Princess Celestia gave a flip of her wing and continued to mount the phaeton. "Now, now, you are as much their goddess as I. It will be good for you to get back in touch with the Sisterhood." Her hoof came down on the deck twice, and the guards began to move, dragging the phaeton behind.

They were just beginning to take off when Princess Cadence came out of her stupor. "Auntie! No! Get back here this instant! Auntie!"

Princess Celestia turned back with a smile. "I'll be back before you know it, dear. Don't work too hard."

Chronicle did his best not to watch as one Princess began to disappear and the other called after her in escalating panic and desperation. Eventually, Princess Cadence puttered out, dropping back to her haunches in defeat. Stepping up to her side, Chronicle placed a comforting hoof on her withers.

"Come, your Highness, there is still much to do today."


	4. Chapter 4

The Castle Canterlot:

Chapter 4

"_Far better to be loved than worshiped."_

—_H.R.H. Princess Celestia_

Cadence glared at the chariot fading into the distance, or more accurately, the tall white figure riding it. Her wings shifted, the purple tips curling against her sides. It wasn't fair. She'd had _plans_. Shiny had finally managed to clear his schedule and set aside three solid days of vacation. They were supposed to be leaving for the Unicorn Range in the morning—by separate means—for three days of ski slopes and hot coco. As if that wasn't bad enough, now she had to deal with the Revered Speaker as well.

Cadence searched her memories of the past week, looking for anything she may have done to anger her aunt. There was nothing that stood out, nothing to justify that level of punishment. They'd only interacted so many times, and everything had been cordial at worst.

Stomping her hoof, she spun in place and marched back into the castle, only to stop halfway to the door. With practiced precision, she performed the breathing exercise she'd developed centuries ago. After two extra repetitions, she calmed and opened her eyes.

With her panic and annoyance set aside, Cadence focused on her next course of actions. If Auntie thought she was just going to roll over and play nice, she had another thing coming. First things first, she needed to speak with Chronicle.

With mild surprise, she realized he was nowhere in sight. Only to chided herself for it. Of course he wouldn't be standing outside any longer than necessary.

Resuming her course with more purposeful steps than she'd had all day, Cadence made her way back into the castle.

Just as she'd expected, she found Celestia's senechal just inside with his back to the doors. What she hadn't expected was the herd of other ponies surrounding him. She recognized most of them, if only by face. A few stood out as the more important of her Celestia's staff. As she approached, Chronicle was updating them on the current state of affairs, primarily Celestia's sudden vacation. All of them seemed to have been struck dumb, either by shock or worry.

Most surprising to her was Chronicle himself. She'd never claim to 'know' the stallion, their relationship never having made it past repeated acquaintance, but his personal quirks were one of the worst kept secrets in the castle. The only signs of his anxieties were the near constant twitch of his tail and left ear as he spoke.

His show of confidence wasn't cutting it, however, and Cadence decided it would be a good idea to step in. Lacking the sheer physical presence of Auntie, she had to clear her throat to get their attention. Only a few of them noticed her at first, but once one started to bow the rest were quick to follow suit.

"Thank you," she said, using the regal tone and poise that had been drilled into her since birth. "Now, I know that this might seem a shocking turn of events. Auntie does not make a habit of taking vacations, but this is not the first time she has done so. She will only be gone for a few days at most, and, if everypony focuses on their normal duties, most of you won't even notice she is gone."

She watched them as her words sank in. While she didn't achieve the level of success that Celestia would have, it was enough to waylay the worst of the worriers. Chronicle, after giving her a nod of thanks, turned back to the group with a more stable ear and tail. Hanging back, she allowed him to dictate the marching orders for the rest of the day. Almost every topic that they'd covered with Celestia was repeated as a set of instructions to the pony responsible with written documents passed along when necessary.

At length, the herd dispersed until only Chronicle and Cadence remained.

Cadence put on a proud smile for Chronicle, noting that he'd stopped fidgeting, though he did have to wipe a small amount of sweat from his brow with a kerchief.

"I'm impressed at how well you managed that."

"Thank you, your Highness," he said, his neutral tone making her wonder if she'd offended him. "I fear that if you had not come when you did it would not have played out so well."

"I don't know about that."

Chronicle looked up at her and seemed to stutter for a moment before saying. "If we wish to remain on schedule, we will need to get started, your Highness."

"Of course, Chronicle," she said with a small nod. Starting forward, she added, "And please, I am not Auntie, do not feel compelled to maintain so much formality."

Trotting to keep pace, Chronicle nodded as his field rifled through his saddlebags. "Yes, your Highness. Now, we have—"

Princess Cadence's smile slipped a smidge. "I said you could drop the titles."

"As you say, your—"

"Chronicle."

"Yes?"

"Stop it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Cadence glared ahead as she started forward, speaking through clenched teeth, more than a little venom suffusing her tone, "So, Mr. Chronicle, what wonders of bureaucracy shall we be wallowing in today?"

"I do not know about 'wallowing'," he said, either missing or ignoring her annoyance, "but there are three committee meetings that I will be attending in her Highness' absences." Cadence let out an annoyed whinny. She had no desire to be in the general vicinity of a committee meeting, much less stuck _in_ one. Chronicle's not-quite disapproving glance did not go unnoticed. "It would be an unofficial presence, purely for observation."

Cadence's voice brightened. "You mean I don't have to go?"

"Her Highness likes to—"

"You will notice, Mr. Chronicle, that I am not Auntie. And that is not what I asked."

Chronicle's ear twitched. "No, Ma'am, not as such."

"Good," Cadence said with a note of finality. "What about holding court?"

Chronicle's normally placid expression fell into a solid frown. "Court will remain closed until the day after the celebration as—"

"We will cross that hurdle when it arrives then. What else?"

Cadence glanced down at her aunt's senechal when he failed to answer promptly. She noted his right ear twitch with some concern. Before she could question it, he spoke up, "Ambassador Kara will undoubtedly seek an audience to negotiate the new trade agreement with Bloodrock."

"Shouldn't…" Princess Cadence faltered, "Chancellor Plume? or… Tenpony? be in-charge of that?"

"Tenpenny, and while that would normally be the case, any attempt to pass her off to somepony else will be seen as an insult—"

"Didn't you just refer to the King as a 'common street vendor'?"

"In private conference with you and her Highness. Might I remind your Highness that Bloodrock Spire is the largest exporter of diamonds and," he shuddered a little, "ivory. While these are luxury goods, they are _important_ luxury goods that would cost exponentially more to purchase from any other source."

"Mr. Chronicle, I have as much experience negotiating trade agreements as you have with astrology. Besides, what were you going to do before Auntie decided to take her holiday?"

"With her Highness out of Canterlot, the ambassador would have accepted speaking with myself and Chancellor Plume. Proceeding with that course would prove unwise as there will be no way to keep her ignorant of you holding court in her Highness' absence. I promise that it will be a painless and brief experience. Ambassador Kara has little patience for politics."

Cadence started to respond, only for the words to slip her mind as they turned a corner.

Not twenty paces down the hall another set of ponies was headed their way. Two of them passed under her notice, eclipsed by the third whose color palette was one Cadence had learned to avoid long ago. The unicorn mare's coat was a pure white that could only be obtained through the long term use of chemical treatments—though the original pink could be spotted at the roots. Similarly, her mane was a rust-red color that also failed to hide the natural blue as the hairs grew out.

Chronicle and Cadence stopped in unison with the trio at ten paces. She hardly noticed the two other ponies give the standard bow that she'd received from nearly everypony since she could remember. Much as she would otherwise, the protocol was there for a reason, and, for some reason she'd never understood, ponies wanted to bow. She'd tried to stymie the behavior once, when founding the Crystal City, and gave up after the first day.

There was no ignoring the Sister, however. Bowing, the mare touched her chin to the floor, her hooves outstretched so that her barrel touched the ground and left her hindquarters up in the air.

Even as the other two started to rise, the stallion opening his mouth to speak, the Sister rode right over him. "Your Serene Highness, it fills me with joy to once again find myself in the glory of your presence." Cadence successfully held back her groan, but could do nothing to stop her eyes from imitating a runaway wagon wheel. "And Mr. Chronicle," she continued as she rose, "it has been too long."

"It is always a pleasure, Revered Speaker. Though I must apologize; her Divine Highness has already left for Ponyville and has elected to take a few days of holiday. However, her Serene Highness, Princess Cadence has agreed to speak with you in her place." If he noticed the glare Cadence sent his way, he showed no sign.

Blessed Harmony seemed to take it as wonderful news, her ever present smile growing even wider as she stared up at the Princess. "Marvelous!"

Cadence's grin became manic as realized that there was no escape. "Wouldn't you rather wait for Auntie to return?"

"Pish-posh. It has been far too long since our last chat." Apparently confident that she would be followed, the Revered Speaker turned and began trotting away.

With a final baleful glare leveled at Chronicle, Cadence caught up with the priestess.

— — — TCC — — —

With Princess Cadence and the Revered Speaker trotting away, Chronicle turned his attention to the two remaining ponies. The first was a young pegasus he recognized as one of the palace messengers.

The colt let go of his put-out expression as he faced forward again. Bowing, he asked if was needed. Chronicle shook his head and dismissed the colt, who wasted no time in making his exit.

The young mare inclined her head. "Mr. Chronicle, sir."

She was a unicorn with a subdued violet coat and dull pink mane of neat curls. Certain that he recognized her, Chronicle tried to recall her name, but found his memory stubbornly lacking. "Yes, Miss?"

"Lady Blackwell wishes to extend an invitation to join her for tea."

Surprised, Chronicle pulled out his watch only to see that it was indeed tea time. It was almost as though the day was hastening toward night and the parties that would follow. Lacking any plans of his own, he nodded his consent, saying, "It would be my pleasure," and motioned for her to lead the way.

The pair fell into step together as she escorted him to Sunhall. West of the palace, Sunhall was the second center of her Highness' government. From the House of Ladies to the Fine Arts Commission, every office of governance not tethered directly to the palace was housed on the long boulevard. While her Highness ostensibly ruled Equestria, she took a very horn-off approach whenever possible, allowing her subjects to devise their own governance—within certain bounds. Officially the Offices Public, the compound had quickly become known by the street it was built around.

Chronicle's tail flicked from side-to-side as they stepped into the early evening sun. His left ear was fast to join once they rounded the street corner and were surrounded by the rush of political aspirants and reporters galloping to finish their work and return home before the festivities could start.

The clatter of hooves and errant voices filling the air were not conducive to private conversation. While Chronicle himself had no issue with this, he could see that his companion was not so comfortable in the extended silence. With his eyes studying the sidewalk no more than two lengths ahead of them, he broke it.

"I apologize, Ms., but I don't seem to recall your name."

"That's okay," she said with an honest meekness, taking a step closer to avoid another pony heading the other way, "I'm nopony important."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, careful not to notice the sky beyond, and frowned. "Your name, if you please."

She started at the sharpness of his tone. "Quick Quill, Mr. Chronicle, sir."

"Ms. Quill, I would recommend that you forget that phrase."

"Sir?"

"Everypony is important, Ms. Quill, and if her Highness catches word of your opinion, she will likely make that fact known to you whether you like it or not."

She didn't seem to know how to respond to that, opting to let the conversation die with a bowed head.

They passed the center of Sunhall, marked by a large fountain where it intersected Moonhall. As was the norm in Canterlot, it was a marble behemoth. Water sprayed up from the central spout, falling between the statues of the three tribes. Each faced its tribes own Hall. The earth pony, to the north-east, reared up with its left foreleg pointing toward the House of Commons. The pegasus, wings flared as though about to fly off, looked skyward toward the Cloud Enclave's cloud hall tethered to the south. Finally, the unicorn stood proud on all fours, Sol's light sparkling off the diamonds set in its horn, its gaze never wavering from the House of Ladies at the end of Sunhall.

The House of Ladies was well appointed, but stoic, lacking the palace's ostentation. White marble built and supported by fluted columns, the buildings was all squares and triangles with only bas-reliefs above the entrance for ornamentation.

Chronicle's left ear relaxed as they entered the narrow hallways, barely enough room for three ponies to walk side-by-side. Despite the more cramped quarters, the number of ponies had only seemed to grow, forcing the pair to weave and dodge as they moved deeper inside.

Just like the exterior, there could be no doubt of the richness on display, regardless of the lack of flair. Portraits and busts of previous members were the only pieces of art on display. White walls outlined a solid burgundy carpet.

Though he knew the way, he allowed Quick Quill led them up the three flights of carpeted stairs until they stood outside the Madam Speaker's office. There she excused herself and slipped through the door, leaving Chronicle to wait in the outer office.

Quick Quill's desk was small but tidy, a short stack of papers in one corner with an empty tray next to it. Three quills rested in a little jar next to two wax sealed inkwells. A brass name plate at the center displayed her name in a flourish of black engraving. The bookshelves against the back wall were filled with thick tomes of Equestrian laws, procedures, and case studies. Two cushions sat against the wall opposite her desk for anypony awaiting the Madam Speaker's pleasure.

The door opened again, Quick Quill stepping out and motioning for Chronicle to enter.

The Madam Speaker's office was far more regal. The desk, passed down from one Madam Speaker to the next, was an exact copy of the Princess', though an inch smaller in every dimension. Medals and honors adorned the walls, filling every space that wasn't taken up by rich painting and the two bookshelves behind her desk. Delicate glass figurines were artfully placed on most of the horizontal surfaces, a particularly large replica of the Princess on the left side of the desk.

Madam Speaker, Scribble Blackwell was a late-middle aged unicorn mare, the first sign of wrinkles hidden behind her light grey coat. Her black mane framed her face, highlighting her magenta eyes. She smiled warmly as Chronicle entered.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Chronicle. I trust the day is treating you well."

"As well as can be expected." He smiled, a small uptick of his lips. "The palace does not take holidays after all."

Lady Blackwell hummed as though he'd told a joke.

The door opened once again to admit Quick Quill with a tea service in tow. A rich, almost spicy, aroma filled the room as the she opened an odd contain next to the pot. Though it was not unpleasant, Chronicle's nose crinkled at the unfamiliar and heady smells.

"Have you ever had Chai?" Lady Blackwell asked.

"Chai?

She hummed. "It is a tea… more or less, from Inponesia. My youngest daughter introduced us to it when she returned from there two months ago, and we've all taken quite a shine to it."

Chronicle nodded absently, paying far more attention to Quick Quill as she boiled the water and milk mixture while adding a myriad of whole leaf spices. Of them, he could only name two, cinnamon and anise. Five minutes of steeping later, the mixture was strained into the porcelain tea pot and two cups poured.

A pleasant tan color, the spice was overwhelming as he took the proffered cup. His uncertainty peaking, Chronicle glanced up at Lady Blackwell. The Madam Speaker graced him with an encouraging smile before sipping her own and humming appreciatively. Tentatively, he followed her lead.

The potent seasoning stampeded across his tongue, half continuing down his throat, the rest jumping up his sinuses. He coughed, covering his mouth with a hoof. "That is—" he cleared his throat, "different."

"Perhaps it is not for everypony."

"No. No, its good," he said honestly. The flavors, strong though they were, sashayed along his tongue. Hot, but not painfully so."Just, different."

She smiled and seemed to relax into sear. "I'm glad you like it. Speaking of imported goods, how are the negotiations with the griffons going?"

Chronicle mimicked her posture, easing deeper into the cushion. "Right about where you'd expect…"

— — — TCC — — —

It was evening when Chronicle finally made it to his office. To label the space as spartan would be no better than labeling the Canterhorn as a mountain. Barely a closet, it accommodated a desk. The east wall led out to a balcony large enough for three friendly ponies, while a fireplace filled the west. Oddly, a fair number of plush cushions were bunched together before the mantle, their bright reds and golds the only source of color in the drab room.

Crossing the threshold, he paused, inhaling deeply through his nose. A weight seemed to slip from his back as he exhaled, his withers relaxing for the first time that day. His hooves flexed against the stone as his eyes wandered from one wall to the next, taking in the tiny space as a dragon would his horde.

His dalliance didn't last. Removing his saddlebags and the documents from within, he took his place behind the desk. Quill and ink retrieved, he set to work with a genuine smile on his face.

Time seemed to speed up from there. A number of ponies came and went over the following hours, some bearing paperwork, some taking paperwork away, and a few stopping in to speak on small matters of the palace.

As senechal, Chronicle was an important non-authority. He was both the Princess' secretary and Chief of Staff for the palace. The latter gave him near absolute control over the goings on within the castle walls. The former, however, placed him in the center of every aspect of governance without granting him any real power to affect it. It all amounted to a veritable mountain of paperwork crossing his desk on any given day.

Chronicle couldn't be happier.

The flow ebbed to a trickle until finally stopping as Sol slid below the disc, and the holiday officially began. Ponies of all ages congregated in parks, fields, and large indoor spaces. Bonfires, staged hours before, were set aflame, a crackling vigil set to burn until Sol made her triumphant return. Fillies and colts played games in the warm glow, bursting with energy at the mere prospect of staying up all night.

Barely audible, the sounds from the palace's own party found their way in through his open balcony. The orchestra's muted chords just on the edge of hearing.

Chronicle stared blankly at the page in his field before sighing and putting it back down. It could wait. He rolled his head, his stiff neck popping loudly in the otherwise shadow silent room. His stretching ended with his head tilted back. His eyes locked onto the ceiling, and he smiled.

"Spellslinger."

An almost impressed snort came from the darkness gathered at the ceiling. The shadows began crawling away to reveal a pink coated unicorn. Laying up with her hooves tucked above her, she looked down at Chronicle and smiled. Her short, blue mane lay against her neck, forelock hooked behind an ear.

A flash of grey dismissed the gravity spell. Her mane and tail drooped, floating for a half-second before the rest of her followed suit. Another flash and she disappeared, a duo of sharp cracks filling the tiny room.

Two pink forelegs slipped under Chronicle's cannons a half second later, wrapping around his barrel and pulling him back against her chest.

"How long?"

Chronicle let himself sink into the warm fur even as Star's rough cheek nuzzled his from behind. "When Tenpenny left, though I knew you were here the moment I stepped inside."

"How?"

He inhaled deeply through his nose. "Lilacs and nutmeg."

Chronicle reached back and ran his hoof along her cheek, feeling the twisted clumps where the hairs of her coat stuck out at odd angles, like shadows over her scars. Her weight pressed against his back as she nuzzled into the hoof.

"How long?" He asked.

"Three weeks."

"Where?"

Star shrugged, her muscles flexing against his back. "You would know better than I."

He paused to sort through the most recent events. "A privateer boat most like, hunting Hackney pirates."

She nickered. "I hate sailing."

A comfortable silence fell as their ritual greeting ended, filled by nothing but even breaths and steady hearts. Chronicle didn't waste any time worrying about how little time they had before she was off again. It was something that either of them could control. He could no more ask her to stay than she could ask him to follow. Instead they savored what time they had together.

The glow of Star's horn wrapped around the desk's lower right drawer, pulling it open to reveal a _Stones_ board.

"White or Black?"


	5. Chapter 5

The Castle Canterlot:

Chapter 5

"I prefer to live in the now. What matters planning for tomorrow if you cannot enjoy today?"

—H.R.H. Princess Cadence Invictus

Ambassador Kara cut into the flank of salmon. Clear juices soaked into the seasoning, unlocking the fragrant spices and making her salivate. She eyed the pink chunk of flesh on her fork before snapping it with her beak. The short, high temperature, searing charred the outside and gave it the sharp tang of carbon without ruining the meat by actually cooking it. Swallowing, she decided it was sufficient, though she'd been looking forward to the chicken that they'd been promised.

She sat amid the small collection of other griffins, not quite segregated from the rest of the non carnivorous guests. All around them, ponies were steeped in their own private conversations as they chewed their grass clippings.

It had not taken Kara long to learn to hide the sneer that developed every time she dealt with the ponies, but it had taken years to lose it altogether. That had been a disquieting revelation when she noticed it. In a fright, she'd taken an impromptu vacation and returned to the Aerie. The next few weeks had been spent partaking in every aspect of griffon culture she could dig her talons into. The damage had already been done, however. Her deep-seated loyalty to king and country demanded she report herself, fully expecting to be dismissed from service.

To her surprise, King Phoenixsong praised her for her patriotism and honesty, explaining that it was only natural to feel such after so long: good even. It would only make her that much more effective a diplomat. That she'd recognized the change and reported herself only proved that she was the right griffon for the post. But she must always remain aware of her new perspective, that it not cloud her judgment.

With these thoughts always at the fore, Kara watched the ponies celebrate another holiday. Every week they seemed to invent another excuse for celebration and pageantry. Of this holiday, at least, she approved. At first she had thought it nothing more than an overt display of Equestrian self-importance, Princess Celestia showing off her pre-eminent command of the heavens. Only when the topic had come up in the presence of the Revered Speaker had she learned the truth of the matter, of the short but devastating war of Sun and Moon. The defeat of a great enemy was always a good reason to celebrate.

Now if only they would learn _how_ to celebrate.

Once she had eaten her fill, and made use of the provided breath mints, she left her attendants to begin her rounds.

Kara despised politics. The game the nobles made of vying for power and influence held no luster for her. Her job was to ensure that Equestria stayed true to their agreements and that griffon interests were not cast to the wayside. That, unfortunately, did not preclude her from playing.

The only joy she found in the whole charade was the way so many of the nobles were never quite comfortable with her presence. She smirked whenever one would unconsciously slip into a defensive stance as they spoke—which only made them that much more ill at ease.

The night dragged. Boredom made the hours roll on slower than Ioka's great flippers cutting through the great black emptiness beyond. Amid dull music, lifeless dancing, and mind numbing small talk, Ambassador Kara's only respite came when she fled to the hors d'oeuvres.

"It's entertaining, isn't it… like watching a litter of puppies fight over their mothers teets."

Kara nearly started, looking up from the tiny bits of toothpick speared 'food' and noticing the Guard Captain for the first time. That could have been embarrassing.

Igneous Quartz—if she recalled correctly—Royal Guard, Captain of the Shield wore her duty armour, all polished steel save for the gold leaf decorations at her collar and cannons. Kara had idly wondered whether it was battle ready, or merely ceremonial, but never bothered to ask. It had been more than a generation since the Royal Guard had last taken to the field.

An earth pony, Quartz was of a size with Kara, almost able to look down at her even. She did not face Kara directly, her back to the table and eyes favoring the nobles and politicians. Like nearly all the Royal Guards, her coat was pearl white while her mane and tail were a bright royal blue.

Kara, annoyed by being caught off guard, considered chiding her on speaking so of her 'betters', but thought better of it. Though she knew little of Quartz personally, she recognized her type, both from the other pony guards and griffon warriors. Such comments would only receive amused grunts at best.

"You ponies play at being above the fold," she began as though simply agreeing with her, before letting out a harsh laugh. "There is only one difference between griffon politics and pony politics."

The statement left a definitive void that demanded an explanation. Quartz tail snapped against her fetlocks. "And that difference would be?"

"When a griffon hamstrings you, it's with his own talon, and a limp is the worst you'll get. Where you see mewling chicks, I see toms and mollys vying for what scraps of power your princess lets fall from her table. Your ladies divy and partition their holdings, making barbed offerings that bind the recipients to them tighter than any family bonds. Those with power gain more, stepping on the backs of their 'lessers' to get higher and higher. There's only one way to the top, being born there."

Something about her little rant must have gotten under Quartz's coat, for she wore a sour look as she said, "And the griffons are so much better?"

Kara shrugged. "No, but we are at least honest about it. Your lordlings dangle power over those below them and, just as they are about to grasp it, yank it away again. Your ceilings are no more malleable than ours, we just built ours of wood instead of glass."

Even with the steady drone of the party, Kara could make out the grinding of Quartz's teeth. When she finally spoke up, her voice was cold iron. "My mother farmed rocks."

Kara chuckled and shook her head as the Captain stormed off. Ponies were too easy sometimes.

None of the other ponies proved to be as entertaining as the Captain, too busy vying for favors to provide an amusement. With no other alternative, she was forced to bear the tedium until dawn approached and everyone was ushered outside to witness the sunrise.

Finding a comfortable cloud, Kara and her retinue lounged among the pegasi. Idle chatter followed, mostly focusing on favored sports teams and baseless boasting on their behalf, as they waited.

And waited.

Kara shifted, her wings resettling against her side. She was about to ask for the time when a strangled gasp caught her ear. One of the pegasus guards stared wide eyed, forehoof pointing up at the sky.

"Well, that's a neat trick," she muttered to herself as she followed his gaze.

— — — TCC — — —

Madam Speaker, Lady Scribble Blackwell, stared at the tome-thick stack of papers. She'd been told by the Princess herself that there had been a time when law did not require so many words, but, for the life of her, she couldn't imagine it. For a few minutes she wondered how it had been possible. Certainly, it seemed like a simple concept. That is wrong; the punishment is this. Foalish. Nothing was that simple. Even murder was not so black and white. The demon is in the details, as they say.

Much to her annoyance, however, that wasn't what was on her mind. Nor the particular minutia of the referendum she was attempting to read. Everytime she brought her focus back to her work, it kept circling around to her conversation with Chronicle.

Celestia was taking a vacation.

The words refused to mesh properly. She understood it on a base level. Of course Celestia was taking a vacation. Out of all the ponies she knew, there were none more deserving of some personal time off. Yet… it felt wrong. Foreign. Celestia did not take vacations. She just didn't. In Blackwell's thirty plus years in the House of Ladies, not once had the Princess even spoken of it as a possibility.

Had it been anypony other than Chronicle—especially the princess herself—she would have assumed it was a joke.

That was just the hot-sauces on the cupcake though. The real tangle in her tail was Her Serene Highness, Princess Cadence Invictus of the Crystal City.

Blackwell's teeth ground together. If there was anypony less deserving of her position… Best not to dwell on such things.

It would only be a few days, Blackwell reminded herself, and Cadence was unlikely to get in her way unless provoked. If she was half the judge of character that she prided herself on being, the princess would do everything she could to stay out of the way, hiding from any real responsibility until the real Princess returned.

With an agitated huff, she let the referendum drop to her desk and leaned back until her head touched the bookshelf. The day had been a long one. She had a job to do after all, holidays be damned. Not that she was getting much work done…

Reaching out blindly, Blackwell's field encased and tugged on the bell-cord beside the door. It was getting late, and she should have been home hours ago. Her husband and wives were probably getting worried.

A single light knock preceded Quick Quill opening to door. "Yes, mum?"

"Can you fetch me the…" Blackwell trailed off as her eyes came to rest on the wall clock. Only then did it fully dawn on her just how late it actually was. Victory was going to be furious. "Why didn't you tell me it was so late?"

"Mum?"

"It's nearly dawn! Surely you have someplace better to be this evening… I know I do."

"I'm sorry, mum. I didn't—"

Blackwell waved a hoof as she stood. "There's no time for that now." Moving around the desk, she began ushering her secretary back out the door. "I'm already in for an earful when I get home as it is, no need to make it worse by dallying. Go gather my driver and have him meet me out front."

"Yes, mum. Right away, mum."

With Quick Quill on her way, Blackwell set about gathering her things and straightening her office. Minutes later, once everything was tidy, she trotted out of the House of Ladies to meet her waiting carriage.

It was Quill and her driver's distant expressions that caught her eye first. She slowed to a stop and followed their gaze up into the night sky.

— — — TCC — — —

Shining Armour, Royal Guard Captain of the Sword, fought a losing battle against the amused grin on his lips. Years of military discipline didn't stand a chance against the sight before him.

It had only been fifteen minutes since he'd arrived at the Royal Observatory and joined Cadence on the balcony. She'd already been pacing when he showed up. At first, he'd been concerned that something was wrong. Then she'd started using real words.

He'd seen her like this before, almost always after dealing with what she referred to as 'political nonsense', or when Celestia was in one of her moods and chose Cadence as her mark. She was frustrated and annoyed, and she needed to work that out on her own. All he had to do was listen and be supportive. The less he said the better.

"She's just so infuriating! So perfectly proper and differential as she speaks down to you like an ignorant foal who can't be trusted to wipe her own nose!" Cadence growled, spinning around and stomping back across the balcony.

That was the most articulate she'd been since he arrived, not that it helped him identify the culprit. There were any number of nobles he could name that acted much the same. It did take Celestia out of the running though, which was always good as far as he was concerned.

"And she knows something too." Shining's brow quirked at that. "She kept dancing around… something every time she spoke, like she knew the punchline to some grand joke but refused to share it." Cadence stomped her hoof as she turned and began another circuit.

"Cadie," Shining spoke up for the first time in minutes. Cadence turned to see him with his foreleg held out to his side, inviting her to join him. She slumped and trudge over to flop at his side, leaning heavily against him and burying her muzzle in his neck.

He kissed the top of her head.

"I'm sorry about our vacation."

Shining sighed, trying to not think about their plans. "It's not your fault."

"What are you going to do now?"

Shining shrugged. "Visit my parents I guess. It's been awhile."

"Oh," Cadence said, her gaze falling to the floor.

Pulling his head back, Shining turned and look at Cadence. "Oh?"

"I was hoping that you would, you know, stay here."

A chuckle rumbled out of his chest and shook the mare in his foreleg as he nosed her ear. "I'm not going anywhere, Mi Amore. Mother and Father are in Canterlot for the weekend."

"Oh," Cadence said again, her voice rising up with her head.

As their eyes met, Shining bounced his eyebrows with a smile that he undoubtedly thought of as 'sexy', but could only truly be described as goofy. Cadence had no desire to tell him otherwise and only managed to cover her laughter by otherwise occupying her lips.

Two hours later, Shining's forelegs held his Princess tight against his barrel as they lay stretched out on the balcony. Neither spoke as they recovered, both focusing more on the feel of the other pressed tightly against their coat.

With his chin resting in Cadence's mane, Shining idly watched the horizon through the gaps in the balcony railing. As the seconds dragged into minutes, a frown began to form on his lips. Extracting himself, he stood, placing his forehooves on the railing.

"Cadie," he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty of his tone. "Cadie. Honey."

She stirred, slow to rise and join him, pressing against his side as she did so. "What is it, my love?"

Unable to find the words, he pointed toward Selene.

Her pupils shrank, jaw falling open. "No."

— — — TCC — — —

A cold breeze ruffled Chronicle's mane, and he stirred. Rolling amid the pilled cushions, he searched for the missing warmth that had been his protection. Another breeze cut through his coat.

Something was wrong.

A shiver of panic burned away the fog of sleep, opening his groggy eyes to a room filled with the shadows of night. As the haze cleared, Chronicle forced himself to calm, working through his situation as best he was able.

It was still evening, though the exact hour eluded him. He could still feel the warmth and smell the musk Star left behind; she was not long from his side. Standing, he found his vest on the floor and threw it on, buttoning it against the chill.

He blinked and turned toward the balcony.

The doors were open, letting the drapes dance in the cool mountain air. That was odd; he never left the doors open. Without really thinking, he reached out with his magic to close them, only to stop as his eyes fell on his desk and caught sight of the unfinished game of _Stones_. His field dissipated.

Giving his head a soft shake, he couldn't stop the building yawn, nor the desire to stretch. The flexing of muscles eased the flow of blood even as it sent his joints popping. There was no getting used to the onset of age. With a soft nicker, he did his best to ignore it and plodded to stand just inside the wafting curtains.

"Star?"

"I am here."

Sitting with his back to the balcony, Chronicle sighed through a small smile. "Describe it for me."

"There are no words that would do the justice of your own eyes." Chronicle did not respond to that, there was no need. "It is beautiful," she went on. "The stars twinkle, almost dancing even as they remain in their appointed posts. They…" The pause caught him off guard, but not as much as the hardening of her tone. "Bookkeeper, you must see this."

"Star—"

"Now."

Reluctantly, Chronicle poked his head through the drapes, eyes never raising from the floor.

"Look up."

Chronicle braced himself and followed Star's instructions. Despite his lack of knowledge on the subject, he spotted the discrepancy instantly. Four stars moved quickly across the sky. Their destination was clear, bare seconds passing before they disappeared behind Selene. She flashed brightly, and when she returned to normal, the ancient shadow that had graced her surface was gone, leaving a pure silver orb in its wake.

For only the second time in his life, not a single muscle in his body quaked as he stood beneath the full glory of the heavens.

A chime sounded from his pocket, his old watch ringing in the dawn that had yet to break.


	6. Interlude

The Castle Canterlot:

Interlude

"_We all make mistakes, Twilight. Even goddesses can stumble and fall."_

—_H.R.H. Princess Celestia Invictus_

Princess Celestia Invictus looked up at Selene and the thousand year old shadow across her face. Sirius, Ankaa, Phad, and Antares were moving toward her.

It would not be long now.

Her gaze fell.

She stood in a clearing of clover and wild flower, just inside the Whitetail woods at the outskirts of Ponyville. It was peaceful at the moment, a faint buzzing of insects punctuated by the occasional hoot of an owl and the scampering of other nocturnal beasts. Her guards she'd left behind in the town proper to await her return. They'd not been happy about her taking a 'private constitutional'. It had taken more than a little convincing, with just a pinch of veiled threat, but they'd eventually relented. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

Settling into the grass, Celestia stretched out, reveling in the feel of it against her coat, slipping between the hairs to scratch at her stomach and barrel. It was a sensation that she rarely had time for these days, and she intended to indulge herself.

After a moment's thought, she rolled on to her back. Her not quite substantial mane pooled beneath her, flowing between the clover flowers like so much dyed water. With a great 'thwump', her wings spread and fell, sending a cloud of daisy seeds up to dance in Selene's silvery light.

For the first time in almost a century, she allowed herself to truly relax.

Nothing had been left to chance. One thousand years of plots and schemes were finally seeing fruition. A thousand years of subtle and overt manipulations to draw all the necessary strings into place. There had been moments of doubt alongside a few less-than scrupulous actions that had been… necessary. She took no pride in those, only solace in the outcome they helped ensure. Despite her certainty in events, there had been moments of panic… years in fact. When the Sparkle family disappeared into the Tiaga those forty odd years ago… That had not been a pleasant decade.

There was one thing, however, that she had not been able to decide upon. She'd put very little thought into her what role she herself would play. Everything else was right where it needed to be, where was she supposed to be?

Hiding would be fairly easy—her mother had proven that well enough. Letting her mana drain away until she held no more than any unicorn would make her all but undetectable. It was the smart thing to do. Everything rested on Twilight and her soon to be friends; Celestia could only get in the way.

That didn't make it any more palatable. It was one thing to step aside and allow another to take command, it was quite another to actively hide while others put their lives on the line. No, Celestia shook her head, there would be no running away this night.

Pride, she mused as the stars disappeared behind Selene, was one of the greatest sins.

Her arrival was not heralded by a flash of light or cacophony of noise. It was quiet and subtle, like a shadow moving between the stars. "I think I rather like that."

Celestia stared up into her polar opposite. Plated in blue armour, Nightmare Moon stood not a hair shorter than Celestia herself. Turquoise and reptilian, her eyes held a mirth that was anything but pleasant. That didn't stop Celestia from smiling. "Hello, sister."

Circling the prone mare, Nightmare Moon carried herself with a nonchalance that screamed arrogance. "I must admit, this is not how I imagined finding you."

Celestia continued to smile as she slowly rose and sat back on her haunches to face her sister. "Of course not. You expected me to come armed for battle, to pick up where we left off a millenia ago." Celestia shook her head. "I do not know how the passing of time affected you, but I have grown old, Luna. So very old."

Without warning, Celestia's horn flashed, golden light filling the glade for the briefest of moments. Nightmare Moon jumped back into a defensive posture, her horn igniting, ready to fend off the attack she was certain would follow. A small snap, like the breaking of a twig, was all that came.

"It's a gift, for you," Celestia said, her eyes trained on the crystal that now hovered between them. "If you promise to keep me company until the outcome is decided."

While her magic faded, her posture did not. Instead, a gasp nearly tore free from Nightmare Moon's throat when the object came into focus. Shaped like a droplet of water, the crystal was flawless and clear. "What are you playing at, Celestia?"

It floated closer. "It is your insurance against my interference. All you have to do is promise to stay here, to keep me company."

Nightmare Moon licked her lips, her eyes glancing at the other alicorn only to snap back to the tear. "You know that this wont stop me. I will still destroy the Elements before your champions can reach them."

The smile Celestia wore did not falter. "We shall see."

Uncertainty played across Nightmare Moon's features. She did not like this. For Celestia to offer up one of her tears… Something was not right. There was little doubt in her mind that her sister would honor her word, but what would happen if she did not take the tear? Grinding her teeth, she reached out with her magic.

"I promise."

Celestia smiled and the tear changed fields, shifting out from a golden to azure aura. With far less trepidation than before, she called on her teleportation magic again. A [i]Stones[/i] board and short table popped into existence between the sisters.

With a knowing smirk, Celestia asked, "White or black?"


	7. Chapter 6

The Castle Canterlot:

Chapter 6

"_They [ponies] have always fascinated me. So full of vim and vigor, not unlike ants, carrying an ever growing weight of memories as they march single-file toward Elysium. But when a leaf falls, obscuring their view, they become lost as though everything is different. Panic takes most at these times, uncertainty of action leads to rash action, or worse, inaction. That is what we are here for, my daughters, to guide them around the leaves and show them that, no matter how much the world may seem to change, Harmony does not."_

—_H.R.M. Queen Faust Invictus, in conference with her daughters, Luna and Celestia (unsubstantiated)._

Star dragged Chronicle through the curtains and back into the comforting smallness of his office. He remained stiff however, legs tense and quivering. She clutched him, holding his head to her chest as she leaned against the wall. Running a hoof through his mane, she whispered comforting words into his ear to calm his racing heart and strangled breaths.

Her efforts were for naught.

The crushing weight of the sky, now hidden from view, had seized his mind in a vice of fear and refused to let go. He quaked, unable to comprehend the sheer scale of the black expanse. Only a thin veil of magic, like the glass of a snowglobe, tended by the celestial bodies on the other side, surrounded the disc and separated them from what lay beyond. No matter how thick, impenetrable, or eternal it may have been, it was still just a thin sheet of paper against the endless void.

What little of his mind still functioned under that weight focused entirely one, single fact: Sol had yet to rise.

The night sky remained, pitch, save for Selene and the myriad of stars that surrounded her.

Sol had not risen.

Princess Celestia was never late. Never. Every day she woke her charge at the appointed time, coaxing the light of the world from below the horizon to shine upon the disc.

Princess Celestia was dead.

No! She wouldn't do that to him. Not like this. No. He needed to think. The Princess was not dead. He anchored himself to that thought. Princess Celestia was not dead. She was alive. Clinging desperately to that unimpeachable fact, he began to structure his thoughts.

Princess Celestia was de… indisposed. How, where, why: none of those mattered. What did matter was 'What'. What would the Princess want him to do?

_Calm,_ he heard her say. _Breathe. Everything will turn out. All you have to do is calm yourself and breathe._

His chest inflated, pulling a large, shuddering breath into his lungs. The second breath came easier, and the third smooth as glass. With the fourth, his eyes opened.

"Bookkeeper?"

"I—I am al—" He shook his head. "Better. I am better."

Star helped him to his hooves. "Do you know what is happening?"

"No," he said, turning toward the balcony and the light that was not flowing through the drapes, "but I know who does."

— — — TCC — — —

Shining's eyes slipped from Selene back to Cadence. "Honey?"

"No," she said again, breathless but gaining momentum. "No. No no. Nononononono!"

Taking her face in his hooves, he forced her to look at him. Years of experience had taught Shining how to identify the rising tide of a panic attack at a single glance. To his surprise, this was not one. While her breathing was shallower than normal, it lacked the constricted urgency of hyperventilation. There was certainly an amount of fear in her eyes, but it was not so great that she seemed on the verge of fleeing and curling into a tight ball at the same time.

"Cadie," he said, keeping his voice steady despite his own creeping worry, "what's wrong?" She just stared at him for a moment with a blank expression, not really seeing him at all. Shining stroked her cheek. "Cadence?"

Like the dawn that hadn't come, Cadence's eyes gradually lit up, coming back into focus. "They knew," she whispered. "Both of them knew."

She tried to pull away, but Shining held fast. Even if she weren't the love of his life, he could not simply let her go. He was a Captain of the Guard, and she knew something about what was going on. He was about to ask what she meant when her horn ignited with a soft blue light.

"Never again."

He barely had time to close his eyes before the distinctive crack and flash of teleportation struck his ears, burnt his eyes, and sent him reeling.

Cursing under his breath, Shining was up and galloping for the stairs in complete disregard for his damaged senses. Easily one of the tallest towers, there was only one way to go while he tried to work out where she would have gone. Not for the first time, he cursed his own lack of ability in abjuration and divination that set tracking her beyond his ken.

Shining was not as smart as his sister, but, then again, neither were half the professors at Celestia's school. Long before he joined the Guard, before he'd found his mark, he'd been as much a book worm as Twilight. But where Twilight went in for books on science and magic, Shining had always been fascinated by history, war, and the heroes that shaped them.

When he found his mark and realized what he wanted to do with his life, none of that had changed… merely focused. His study of history shifted to the events and processes that lead up to wars, his study of war moved to the specifics of tactics and strategies, and his idealization of heroes became a study of what to look for in others and how to spot the tremors before a fall.

That said, his—admittedly coltish—fascination with the tools of war had not diminished. One of the first things he did upon his promotion to Captain of the Sword was to visit the Royal Armoury. Like a colt in a candy shop, he'd spent hours walking through the massive collection of arms and armour stored therein—drool may or may not have been involved. It had been near the end of his one pony tour that he'd spotted the only stands hidden under thick canvas sheets. He almost managed to not lift the veils.

The first one was divine, both literally and figuratively. Celestia's gold and ruby barding was as much art as it was armour. But, as impressive as it was to see first-hoof, there was nothing surprising about it. Innumerable paintings and reliefs of it adorning Her Highness' form filled the art galleries and history books to the point that, if anything, seeing it draped so lazily across the back of ponyquine was almost anticlimactic.

It had been the second set that really caught him off guard and spurred an enlightening binge of research that would have made Twily proud.

Hitting the ground floor, Shining turned right.

Galloping down the hallways was probably not his wisest move. The already on edge staff and guests were not put at ease by the sight of the well known Captain rushing hither and yawn. Later he would chide himself for it, but at that moment, Cadence was the only thing that mattered.

It took him almost five minutes to reach the Royal Armoury, the wide open doors confirming his hunch.

History, Shining Armour had learned, was not something to be studied lightly. It required a certain staunchness that most ponies could not muster. The first hurdle to be crossed was accepting that it was impossible to get the full picture. Besides the vile biases that clouded the truth like a thick layer of manure—most all the records written by unicorns—there were dishearteningly large gaps that left entire era's as blank as a newborn's flank.

Fortunately, those gaps shrunk considerably after the _War of the Sun and Moon_. Not that that made finding what he'd been looking for any easier.

Once he'd finally put it altogether, it only made his infatuation with Cadence grow—even if he'd never managed to broach the subject with her.

He found her right where he at once feared and longed to.

At no point in Shining's existence would he ever say that Cadence was anything shy of the most beautiful mare he'd ever laid eyes on—both out of honesty and a reasonable fear for his well-being. That being said, it took all of his considerable willpower to maintain his faculties when he turned that final corner.

Sapphires and lapis-lazulis, cut to the shape of hearts, were the anchor points for the joints. Long, feather like plates of rose and pink scale flared out from the gems. So focused was she on attaching the last of the greaves that she failed to notice his approach until he was nearly upon her.

Startled by the sound of his hooves, Cadence stiffened, her wings flaring as she rose to her full height and squared her cannons.

Shining came to a dead stop, his jaw falling loose from his face.

She appeared as an ancient tapestry come to life. Proud, commanding, a general surveying the her troops as battle raged below.

"Your Highness," Shining said, years of training kicking in while he waged a war against his base desires.

The pure defiance of Cadence's features flashed with hurt, only to twist with disgust, as though a foul tasted had found her tongue. "_Captain_. I'm certain that your presence is needed elsewhere."

As though that were enough to dismiss him, Cadence turned her attention back to her armour. Cinching the last greave into place, she draped the next piece across her withers, her magic working the straps.

Shining retreated as though slapped and stared at her with a blank expression, for all of two seconds before an amused grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Honey…" he started, waiting for her to look up from her work before continuing, "how long has it been since you wore that?"

"Be careful with your next words," she hissed with a glare that should have sent him staggering.

A forehoof moved to cover his lips and hide the snickers that he could not contain. "Cadence… Love… Darling… that's the croupiere. It goes on the other end."

With delighted eyes, he watched her turn to examine the misplaced armour. He anticipated a blush, and attempt to hide embarrassment at making such a mistake, maybe even an excuse. He expected cute. What he got was her fixing the error and going straight back to work.

This was new, and that just added on to worries that had been mounting in the back of his mind. He could no longer avoid the dragon in the room. The simple act of squaring his shoulders seemed alter him entirely. Captain of the Sword, Shining Armour stared straight ahead, jaw set and tail stiff. "What is going on?"

Cadence looked at him as she thread her mane through the criniere. When she spoke, it was with the dull, distant tone of a professor reciting a particularly boring piece of literature. "On the longest day of the thousandth year, the Stars will aid in her escape, and she will bring about nighttime eternal."

It took a moment for Shining to respond. The words were distantly familiar, like something he'd heard, or read, a long time prior. Then it clicked. "The Mare in the Moon? That old mare's tale? My mother used to read that to me before bed."

"Did you not see Selene? You of all ponies…" Cadence's derisive tone was like a slap across the face. "Think Shining. Assume for a moment that Nightmare Moon is real. What would that mean?"

"Nightmare Moon…" he started, only to trail off. When it clicked, it was like a the first time he'd cast his shield. "The War of the Sun and Moon!" His face lit up and he barely kept from prancing in place. "Cadie, do you realize what this means?"

"Vividly."

He didn't hear her. "It explains so much! Faust!" He spun around, chasing his tail like his mind chased the train of thought. All the inconsistencies, the minor details that stuck out like the horn on his head, they all came together to reveal an intricate tapestry obfuscated behind centuries of dirt and grit.

A pair of hooves gripped his cannons and he found himself being stared down by an armour bedecked Cadence. "What it means is that Nightmare Moon is free and Auntie has gone to fight her. Alone."

His giddiness died. "Then why didn't she take her armour?"

Cadence turned toward the golden armour still adorning the other ponyquine, apparently noticing it for the first time.

"But... Why would... Oh, you arrogant, selfish, stupid mare!"

Stomping a hoof, she released him and turned to a glass display case against the wall.

"What? What is it?"

Cadence turned back around, a bastard sword, nearly as long as Shining was tall, was gripped in her field. He recognized the blade immediately.

Penumbra was not as famous as Coronal Edge—Celestia's sword—but was no less impressive. From what he'd been able to discover, it was forged some time during _The War of Sun and Moon_. Despite that, its first recorded use wasn't until years later when Cadence lead the pacification of the Crystal Valley, the eventual sight of her Crystal City.

Both the name and dark design of the blade always seemed off to him. It didn't fit with the motif of Cadence's armour.

She swung the swords a few times, reacquainting herself with its weight and feel. "She thinks she can save her." At Shining's questioning looks, Cadence sighed. "Shiny. Sweetie…" her wing brushed his cheek. "Celestia is my _Aunt_."

— — — TCC — — —

Star Shimmer disappeared in a flash of magic, rushing off to retrieve the Revered Speaker. He'd break off his own horn if she didn't know exactly what was going on.

Regardless, Chronicle didn't have time to wait for the 'Whys' or 'Hows'. If panic hadn't taken the city yet, it would in short order and the Palace needed to get a bridle on things before they got out of control.

Rushing about the small office, Chronicle packed his saddlebags full of blank scrolls, ink, quills, and any documents that could possibly be needed in the coming hours. There weren't many; there'd never been a need before.

He moved as quickly as he dared through the palace halls, only slowing to a canter when he neared a turn. He wasn't the only one. Staff ponies rushed around like he'd never seen before, most with somewhere to go, but there were still plenty that just seemed to be in a blind panic. Only the Royal Guard maintained their detached demeanor, though the sheer number ruined whatever calming effect they may have otherwise had.

Approaching the private entrance to the Throne Room, Chronicle finally pulled to a stop. The two Royal Guards eyed him, but otherwise didn't react. He gave himself a moment to recover. Straightening his vest and saddlebags, he forced his breaths to slow. With a nod to the guards and a dual snap of his tail, Chronicle stepped inside.

He wasn't surprised by the raging argument that washed over him, but that didn't make make him any calmer.

Approaching the throne as he always did, head down and left ear quivering, he took in the scene.

Almost the entire court had already assembled, a veritable herd of Equestria's leadership and their secretaries. They were crowded together at the base of the throne, already separating into two distinct groups.

"…believe what I'm hearing!" Blackwell was saying, just shy of a shout. "We're trying to avoid a panic, not cause one!"

"Yes, which is exactly why we need to lock the city down," returned Snow Blind, Commandant General of the Cloud Conclave. "Without a constant, visible show of calm with which to anchor themselves, the civilians will attach to the largest herd they find. And until Sol rises again, no matter what we do, the panic will only grow."

To Chronicle's surprise, the room was not evenly divided. Blackwell—Quick Quill at her side—stood with less than a quarter of the Council's support, only those few who were inexorably tied to her at her side.

Chronicle scanned the faces, ticking off an unofficial attendance roster. Besides those who had taken their holiday outside of Canterlot, everypony save Princess Cadence and Shining Armour was present. Any other time and he'd have had a private chuckle at their mutual absences. They couldn't have picked a worse time to for a dalliance.

The two leaders continued to argue as Chronicle took his seat beside the throne and set his bags aside. He floated the collected papers out and spread them out before him. The familiar motions helped to maintain his center, a slice of normalcy in a chaotic situation. Nothing he could do would be enough to make up for the glaring absence at his side.

"…because that is what we'll be broadcasting to everypony! The Guard is already putting every pony they can on near constant patrol. That will be more than enough to—"

A sharp whistle issued from between Chronicle's lips, cutting Blackwell off and successfully snatching everypony's attention. Both his ears quivered under the scrutiny, but he made a show of meeting most the their eyes.

When Chronicle finally spoke, it was with a steady confidence. "In accordance with Royal Edict seven point nine point cee, Martial Law can only be instituted by a non-member of the royal family if all members are incapacitated or otherwise incapable of issuing such an order."

Whispers broke out amid the crowd as the two principal speakers stared at him, one with a smile of victory and the other with dogged determination. It was the latter who spoke next.

"My eyes may be mistaken, but I see no Princess here." Chronicle started to respond, but Snow barreled right over him. "And we don't have time to debate this." She held up an assortment of papers between her primaries. "There are already reports of small scale disturbances. Things will only nose-dive from here!" She glanced at the gathered ponies, taking special note of the numbers behind her. "I demand an immediate vote for regency."

Chronicle groaned as his hoof found his forehead, and the entire Privy Council slipped back into its natural state.


End file.
